


The Future You Dreamed For Me

by taxicab12



Series: more to me than you can dream [24]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: But also, Gen, Kinda sad but not really, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, memories of childhood, nile has a tendency to interrupt, story time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26634109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxicab12/pseuds/taxicab12
Summary: “That boy,” his uncle said, and this was cruel, a sneer even, “him, a priest? You must be kidding. He can hardly tell you his own name.”“He’s young still.”(“Wait, wait,” Nile interrupted. “How old are you here? I was picturing like ten-year-old Nicky before.”“I don’t know.” Nicky frowned. “Definitely younger than that. Four, five, six, maybe? We didn’t care so much about exact ages then.”“Okay, continue.”)
Relationships: Nile Freeman & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Series: more to me than you can dream [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878034
Comments: 2
Kudos: 114





	The Future You Dreamed For Me

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place not long after Man of Swords (#21 in this series) but you don’t need to read that first

He remembered waking up in the cold. Childhood memories were slippery things, even during a normal human lifespan, but after nine hundred years they were few and fleeting.

He didn’t remember his father’s voice, his cadence, or inflection, or accent, but he remembered his words, echoing from the next room in their small house.

“Did you hear they finished that new cathedral in Pisa?”

The other man, his uncle perhaps or else a family friend, chuckled. “Bastards.”

(“Did Genoa not get along with Pisa?” Nile asked, interrupting.

“Genoa didn’t get along with many places.” Nicky laughed. “But Pisa defeated Genoa in battle in... ah 1060, I think, before my time. It made them the great Mediterranean power and Genoa wasn’t quick to get over it.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“Well, I’ve done my research.”

“Research?” She laughed.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Even if I had been alive at the time, we didn’t exactly spend lots of time talking about the battle’s effect on the future of maritime trade in the Mediterranean. I only knew events, context came later.”

“Fair,” she said. “Continue.”

“Yes, right. Anyway...”)

“Bastards,” his uncle chuckled. “It’s supposed to be quite a sight, though. I saw it half built a few years ago.”

“You see a lot of things.” His father’s voice was sad.

He curled himself into his blanket, as if that would protect him from what was coming next.

“You could come with me, you know?” His uncle said. “Even now, there’s some good money in trading.”

“You know my answer,” he said. “I have to stay here, with my family. I have a son, and another child on the way. If I die on the sea, who will provide for them?”

(“You had a younger sibling?” Nile didn’t even look apologetic for interrupting this time.

“Well, that sister died in childbirth, I think,” Nicky said. “Or died as an infant, at least, I don’t really remember. I had another sister later on.”

“Oh.” She was quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I don’t remember either of them. Even the sister that lived was very young when I— well, let me tell the story, won’t you?”)

“Are you providing for them now?”

“I’m doing what I can.”

His uncle laughed, it was perhaps cruel and malicious, but time had softened that memory. “What future does that boy of yours have?”

“I want Nicolò to be a man of God,” his father said. “I want him to have a virtuous life, what other future could I hope for?”

“That boy,” his uncle said, and this was cruel, a sneer even, “him, a priest? You must be kidding. He can hardly tell you his own name.”

“He’s young still.”

(“Wait, wait,” Nile said. “How old are you here? I was picturing like ten-year-old Nicky before.”

“I don’t know.” Nicky frowned. “Definitely younger than that. Four, five, six, maybe? We didn’t care so much about exact ages then.”

“Okay, continue.”)

“And you will somehow provide his education?” His uncle asked. “Be realistic.”

“I have a friend among the priests,” his father said. “Perhaps, when Nicolò’s a little older I will speak to him.”

“If that doesn’t work out, give him to me. I’ll make a sailor of that boy yet.”

“No,” he said. “He won’t be like you, running around the world. He will be a man of God, of virtue. He will go to heaven.”

“And you don’t think I will?”

“I think you have sins to confess first.”

“Damn you!” His uncle said. “And damn that boy. Just you wait, he’s going to see places I could never dream of, rather than stuck in your silly dreams.”

(“Well, he wasn’t wrong.”

“Shush, Nile.”)

“He will be a priest.” His father didn’t yell. “His life will be better than mine.”

(“Technically, he wasn’t wrong either.”

“Are you going to let me finish the story, or no?”

“Sorry.”)

His uncle stormed out, the door slamming beside him.

His father sighed, then came into the next room, his eyes catching on his son.

“You should be asleep,” his father said.

“Sorry,” he said. “I heard yelling.”

“Go to sleep now,” he said. “And, Nicolò?”

He tilted his head, before realizing his father couldn’t see that in the dark. “Yes?”

“Faith in God is what matters. You must believe and must act as a virtuous man. God will provide.”

He nodded. “Yes, Father.”

The years after that melted together. He went to the church fairly young, perhaps in his teens, when his sister was still a small child. At some point, he became a priest, just as his father desired. And then the Pope called for aid.

(“I know this bit,” Nile said. “The Byzantines were being attacked by Muslims and you guys in Europe went to help fellow Christians.”

“Basically, yes,” Nicky said. “Well, that was what sparked it. But most of the men I knew went for personal reasons. The Pope offered indulgences for all sins for any man who went to the Holy Land, few could refuse a free ticket to heaven.”

“And you?”

“I... I was restless, Nile. I think I’d always been restless. I was thirty and had never been more than a day outside Genoa. Jerusalem sounded... well, I told myself it sounded holy, but really it sounded exciting and new. And if I got the chance to defeat heretics, save Jerusalem...”

“That’s...”)

The man who marched towards Jerusalem was not a good man. He was hateful and cruel and ignorant. If he had known what was coming, the future before him, perhaps he would’ve run. But he didn’t know, and he died.

(“And he stayed dead,” Nicky said. “The man I was before, the priest, my father’s son, he died at the hands of a man he would’ve hated.”

“Is that all you remember from your life?”

“What else is there?”)

Jerusalem fell; Nicolò di Genova was born again.

**Author's Note:**

> According to my personal timeline, Nicky was born in 1068, the story he tells takes place in 1072


End file.
